Dear Editor: Publish Me, You Coward

Photo by Bongkarn Thanyakij on Pexels



Hello Top Medium Publication,

You may recognize me as the artisté behind groundbreaking submissions such as:

  • “Hi, I’m Your Girlfriend, the Bee”
  • “10 Hottest Species of Bees”
  • “Harry Potter Slashfics, But With Bees”
  • “God, I Want To Fuck A Bee”
  • And, most recently, “Pictures of My Junk (Side-by-Side With Bees)”

You rejected all of them. Give me a chance, you worthless cowards.

You say I’m the problem. If so, why do I keep getting accepted by other top-grade Medium sites? My bylines include:

  • Yellowjacket (fashion)
  • Bee+ (productivity)
  • Stinger (sex tips for swingers, who are also bees)

I’ve amassed nearly 10,000 views and over 1,000 claps across these platforms. So why won’t you publish me, you miserable bastards?

(Disclosure: I am the managing editor of these publications. I am also the audience.)

At first, your critiques were helpful, though disregarded: “Interesting premise, maybe tone it down on the bees.”

Later, when you told me, “I’m not sure readers need a 1600 word explanation of the mating cycles of bees,” it was harsh, but (arguably) necessary.

I began to question your professionalism when you asked, “Is this a humor article or another erotic fantasy about bees?” (It was both.)

The last straw was when you said, “I will NEVER publish you. Also, did you just zipline past my house dressed as a bee?”

Yes, I strapped thirty Bluetooth speakers to my chest, so that as I flew past you at 57 miles an hour, my mesothorax taut against the wind, I would sound like the Eighth Plague of Egypt, but instead of locusts, bees. No, you didn’t have to call the police, you rotten, simpering snitch.

I am now writing from prison, where I have formed a gang called the “Queen Bees.” We wear yellow-and-black, speak entirely in words that start with the letter “B,” and have achieved a monopoly on pruno through a combination of unspeakable violence and black market honey. We have killed over thirty inmates, and when we have downtime, I hold readings of my latest novel: “Prisoners of Desire (For Bees).” All of this is to say that I am alarmingly dangerous, yet also enormously talented as a writer.

You’ll find two files attached to this email. One, a story called “Top 30 Sex Positions For Bees.” Two, a picture of a shank with your name on it, made entirely out of wasp stingers.

I trust you’ll make the right decision, you awful son-of-a-bitch.

Yours truly,

Rob-bee Im-bee


Medium humor. Large laughs.

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